Masquerade
by yume girl 91
Summary: UlquiRuki two-shot. What lies behind the mask he wears? What secrets do those haunting green eyes hold? Give it a read! Au


Masquerade. Pt.1: Dancing in the night

Parties, elaborate, with glittering crystal chandeliers and glistening candlelight refracting a million different rainbows onto the shoulders and damask gowns of the loveliest women in the whole of the city of Londinium, were all a part of her world. Blue patterned china was laid out filled with various choices in viands up against the far wall while the dancing floor was being prepared.

The oak floor gleamed with the sheen of well-bred age; the Orchestra began playing softly in the background as couples began forming. The young Kuchiki heiress sat back idly declining offer after offer for her hand in the dance, fans fluttered behind gossiping mouths while a queer half-smile asserted itself on her lips, lowering her harlequin mask to better watch the elegant people sweeping across the floor.

Her gown, a deep Sapphire blue, low cut at the bodice with an empire waist fit her trim figure to perfection. A fan of peacock feathers passed distractedly back and forth over her face. Her hand lax across her lap; held the ribbons attached to the mask. Her eyes closed briefly, physically exhausted. Every single Dowager female in the room with a full-grown son was eyeing her like a prize to be won. Sure her fortune was large but was it really that tempting?

Her lips puckered into a frown as someone gently tapped her fan; another _would-be suitor_. Rukia opened an eye then seeing the peculiar masked man before her, stared. His was the face of a demon from the blackest hell, from the gaping eye sockets of the white mask, two emerald green eyes peered at her questioningly, "may I have this dance, Lady Kuchiki?"

He had jet-black hair, a longer length than most as the tips brushed the shoulders of his white jacket. Coyly, she lowered her fan and held it under her eyes, "that depends," she smoothly reached up and affixed her own half-mask to her face, "are you after me for my beauty or my wealth?"

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," he replied dryly.

"Touché. Lord—" Rukia fluttered her fan distractedly, "oh I'm sorry. I don't recall your name."

"That's because I didn't give it."

Well that was certainly unexpected. Most young Lords she'd pull the same trick on—particularly if she didn't remember their name—usually fell for it and were most obliging in providing it to her. But this guy…

He arrogantly extended his hand to her, surprised she found herself accepting. Standing up just as the strains of a new waltz floated dreamily throughout the ballroom. He led her imperiously to the center, couples parting to make way for them, she looked up and found him studying her closely, his other hand, the one that wasn't holding captive her gloved one, snaked around her waist, jerking her with a sudden movement that brought their bodies in close proximity to one another.

They swirled in a flurry of movement, breaking off her thought process. His palm felt cold beneath the silken glove and she blushed when they executed a turn, she didn't stay in step and her breast grazed the cloth below his lapel. He didn't seem to notice much to her relief. His cool grace astonished her, as he seemed to follow the intricate steps and glide her along. For a while it almost felt as if they were one, his hand on her waist, slithering up to caress the bare exposed part of her sensitive skin as the dress had a particular cut out—a heart right where the real one would be on the front. She felt her cheeks redden, _was this proper for him to be touching her in such a way_?

Her pulse raced; she could feel the outraged stares of those whom she had rejected as she scandalously pressed her bosom to his chest. All the while his bright green eyes were on her. The dance ended yet inanely she wished it could've gone on longer. Somewhat breathless, Rukia pulled away from his possessive grasp to fan herself vigorously.

Never had she felt this way with any man, so confused, so…

She looked up to find him gone. His white coattails swished decisively as he disappeared into the mélange of people. Then she patted her cheek, feeling only the smooth expanse of creamy porcelain skin; _he'd taken her mask_.

~~~To be continued~~~

A/N: I got the idea while we were out in town changing Auto insurance on Squeaky—ignore the pun you wouldn't understand it—and just worked on it now. I do not own Bleach. Ahem…sorry if it was a bit weird, alternate universe and all…but um, well please review?


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